


The Third Floor and the Penthouse

by Momerath



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-23
Updated: 2011-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:37:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momerath/pseuds/Momerath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode tag to "Bail Out".  Harvey seemed to know what he was talking about with addiction.</p><p>"This is what addicts do....Deep down they think it's only a matter of time before they fail.  They would rather fall from the third floor than the penthouse."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Third Floor and the Penthouse

“I take it,” Jessica says, “that whatever the thing with Mike was, it has been sorted out.”

Harvey looks up.  She’s wandered into the office, backlit.  It’s late so the motion sensors have been switched on, the path she took from her office to his is the only illumination on the floor.  He’s sitting in a pool of light at his desk, it’s so late he’s wondering if it isn’t worth just staying here.  She sits down on the sofa, and curls up.  It’s like it’s always been – the end of the day, Jessica coming for a chat.  She’s his boss and his best friend.  Somehow, the two roles never really clash.

“Sorted,” he confirms, putting down the paper he was reading.  “Wasn’t really a thing.”

She eyeballs him, and he looks away.  He doesn’t like talking to Mike about her.  He doesn’t like being reminded of the lie he’s telling her about him.  He doesn’t like the unintended reminder of the terrible jeopardy he’s put her firm in by hiring an unqualified lawyer.  He doesn’t like thinking about the breach of her trust.

“I think it _was_ a thing,” she says, quietly.  “For example, he was chased from the building two shady characters yesterday.”

He’s surprised.  “How do you know that?”

“My office has windows, doesn’t it?  Big ones.” 

That isn’t it.  She’s keeping her eye on Mike for some reason.  He hopes for a good reason.  He thinks she likes him.  “It’s sorted,” he says again.

There’s a pause, and they talk briefly about a case.  But then she brings up Mike again.  “You looked for another you,” she says, “and you found him, didn’t you?  I always knew he was like you.  But I didn’t know just how like you.”

“There are several key differences.  Dress style.  Social charm.”

“It’s a friend, in his case?  Who’s the addict?”

Harvey’s annoyed now.  “How do you know it’s an addiction problem, Jessica?  It could be anything.  I don’t know the guy’s life.”

“Sure you do.  And I know yours.  You wouldn’t care as much if it wasn’t an addict.”

She is right, and she isn’t going to stop until he tells her everything, so he does.  “It’s an old friend of his.  He was on an upward slope, got into some grief, we – Mike – got him out of it and packed him off out of town.  Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I told him the friend has got to go.  He won’t bring it to work again.”

“So apart from the puppy analogy,” she says drily, “I take it you’ve given him the third floor and penthouse one?  And the anchor one?”

“Repeatedly, for all he listens to it.”  He looks down pointedly at the files in front of him, as though to say ‘I’ve got a lot to do’.

“You never listened to it, either, Harvey,” she says, lightly.  “I must’ve told you a thousand times to times to cut her loose.  You never did.”

“Exactly,” he says, rearranging files on his desk that don’t need to be rearranged, “It was sound advice.  Mike’s a good guy.  I’m just trying to soften the inevitable blow.”

“You’re a good guy too, Harvey,” she says quietly.  “And you never gave up on her, even when she gave up on herself, even when I tried to get you to give up on her, you believed her every time, because you had to, you needed to.  And she needed you to believe her, because she never really believed herself.  You helped her stay alive and clean for longer than anyone else could have, because you never gave up and you never dropped her. Even when I told you to.  And I did tell you, over and over again.”

“That was my mistake,” he says, not looking up, because he can keep his voice steady but not his face.  “I’m just trying to get him to learn from my mistakes, like a good mentor should.”

She uncurls and gets up.  “It wasn’t a mistake.  People can win the fight.  You had to believe _she_ still had it in her.  Maybe she did, maybe she didn't.  But she was all you had.  She was your little sister.  You couldn’t have done anything else and still be you.  And Mike couldn’t be Mike if he turned away.  He strikes me as someone deeply loyal to his friends.  And so are you, Harvey.  It doesn’t matter if Mike’s friend falls out of the third floor or out of the penthouse or out of a supersonic jet.  Wherever he falls from, he’ll fall right onto Mike because Mike will have put himself there.  You always put yourself there, didn’t you?  Keep giving the sound advice to the kid, but start getting used to scraping him off the floor every time while gritting your teeth.  It’s what friends do.  I know what I’m talking about, remember.”

And then she saunters off, again.  He watches her go, the lights flicking on as she passes.  He remembers the phone calls he would get from Claire, he remembers the times Jessica – a young, green associate – would come to the police station with him – a post room boy – to get Claire out again, Claire just sixteen, seventeen, wildly promising that this is it, this is the last time, this will never happen again, this is all over, thank you for coming to get me, thank you for the bail, I’ll pay you back, thank you, thank you, never again.  For years.  And years.  And then she'd clean up and things would be rosy, and then she wouldn't come home one night and the phone would go and it would be back down to the station and back into court.  And when he was at Harvard, the phone would still ring, and then he’d ring Jessica and then Jessica would go and sort Claire out again, and then ring him back and tell him it had to stop and he would say it would, that Claire promised it, and Jessica would say, no, this isn’t about what Claire says, she isn’t going to stop, it’s about _you_ stopping.  She’s an anchor, you have to cut her loose.   And he’d say, she’s my sister.  And Jessica would say, she’s an anchor.  And then Claire would clean up again and get a job and get a flat that wasn’t a squat and it would be great and then the money would start going missing and then she’d vanish off into a squat again and then the phone would go again and it would all start over again and Jessica would say, don’t you see, she doesn’t want to fall from the penthouse, she would rather fall from the third floor.  Cut her loose.  You’re better than this.  You’re going somewhere.  She’s holding you back.  She’s an anchor.  But he never did.  He came back to New York as a lawyer, and still the phone went, and still Claire would be sorted out, over and over again.

And then she cut herself loose.  He was sitting on this very floor, as Jessica’s associate, going places, being someone, and the phone went for the last time, from the hospital.  Jessica went with him again, the way she always did, to sort out Claire together for the last time, after years of sorting out Claire together.  Jessica was there he identified the body and listened with him as the doctors explained about the overdose and that was probably accidental, and she took him home afterwards. And she never once said ‘I told you so’. 

In the same way, thinks Harvey, wearily, that if and when Trevor turns back up again and starts all his nonsense again, I’ll tell Mike to cut him loose and that’s he an anchor and that he’ll always fall out the third floor, but when the phone goes, we’ll still sort out Trevor together.

It’s what friends do. 

He starts flicking through another file.


End file.
